


(D)Rabble-Rouser

by rosesisupposes



Series: Prompts for My Imaginary Sons [Sanders Sides Prompt Fills] [14]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alcohol, Background Moxiety - Freeform, Candy, Cat Dads, College, Drabble Collection, F slur, Flirting, Gen, Halloween, Logan just wants to read his damn book, M/M, Meeting the Parents, Prinxiety Brothers, Professor Logan Sanders, Prompt Fic, Prompt Fill, Roommates, Sharing a Bed, Surprises, Swearing, Transphobia, Vacation, Virgil is a softie, one bed, prank planning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-08-11 08:28:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 6,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20150641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosesisupposes/pseuds/rosesisupposes
Summary: Collection of short prompt responses (1000 words and under) featuring my favorite boys





	1. Vacation - Sleepality

**Author's Note:**

> “It’s six o’clock in the morning, you’re not having vodka.” and  
“Safety first.” “What are you? FIVE?”
> 
> with sleepality (patton/remy)
> 
> (Request from: Dani/NotVeryGlittery)

Every kindergartner knows one fact very well: teachers don’t exist outside of school. They definitely live there, all the time. And there is _nothing _they do that their students’ tiny minds can’t picture.

Remy Sanders has lost track of how many times he’s thanked the stars above that Patton’s kiddos are wrong. Particularly when he and his husband take advantage of summer vacation and jet off to new locations, every year.

This year was the beach on a Caribbean island, with white sands and blue seas and a private guesthouse that was secluded from the rest of the resort by a rippling brook and dark green palm trees.

It was the third day of vacation, so Patton had yet to adjust from teacher hours. Remy woke with a small groan as Patton wriggled his way out bed to throw open the outside doors. The horizon greeted them both, a perfectly balanced view of sand and sea and sky.

“G’morning, daydream,” Patton said as he saw Remy stretching. “Did I wake you up?”

“Yes,” Remy said grumpily.

“I’m sorry, honeylove,” his husband said, returning to the mess of white linen to kiss him on the cheek. “I didn’t mean to.” He kissed him on the forehead, and nose, and finally placed a soft peck right on Remy’s lips.

“It’s okay,” Remy mumbled, melting into Patton’s touch like always. “I just love my beauty sleep.”

“Then clearly it’s time to wake you up! If you get any prettier I may just explode!” Patton said, grinning as he pulled down the covers and scooped up his lanky husband into his arms. He may have been a full foot shorter than the elegant fashionista, but he was all muscles and soft skin and could easily dance around their room carrying the taller man. Which he didn’t, of course. Because that would mean that Remy was a softie. Which he most certainly was not. He had a reputation as Demanding-But-Brilliant Bitch to keep up.

And so Remy was definitely _not _half-naked and blushing as Patton carried him through their hotel room to the table by the window. “Hmmm, mimosas or spritzers?” he asked as he deposited Remy in a chair, moving behind him to rub his neck.

“Isn’t it a bit early to start drinking, my lovely?” Remy drawled, looking up at the bouncing curls that fanned out around Pat’s face.

“It’s vacation! Happy hour is always. Because I’m always happy when I’m with you!” Patton cooed. “What can I get you?”

“Hun, I’m not drinking before the sun’s fully up.”

“Okay then, what can I get me! Spritzer, I think!”

“It’s six o’clock in the morning, you’re not having vodka,” Remy said, pulling Patton into his lap.

But then Patton looked up at him with huge, warm brown eyes and said, “Just one?”

And one spritzer had turned into two, and a teasing liquor-soaked raspberry popped into Remy’s mouth had convinced him to have “maybe half” of another…

Someday, if they were married 50 years, Patton might _finally _remember that he was both a) tiny and b) had about a third of Remy’s tolerance. And someday, Remy might finally remember that he was utterly and entirely unable to deny his husband anything, particularly when he smiled and kissed his cheek softly.

And the ocean was so beautiful and sparkling, and Patton had started bouncing around remembering boogie-boards of his childhood until Remy called the resort and asked for two to be sent to their guest house. The resort was adults-only, so it took them a while, but anything for Remy, designed of the R●E●M label, VIP Guest and notoriously difficult to please.

And now they were ankle-deep in glistening waters with brightly-colored boards in tow. Remy paused a moment to take in the view, and so had all of a second’s warning as Patton grinned and splashed him.

“Hey!”

“I gotchuuu,” Patton giggled. “Gotchu good!”

Remy tried to grab his husband’s wrist, but Patton was splashing away, laughing at Remy’s indignant, dripping face.

“That’s it!” Remy yelled, chasing after him and trying to splash back. Running through shallow water was difficult, and within a few steps Patton was on his boogie board swimming through the deeper water.

Remy finally caught up, still tipsy and soaking in sun and salt water, but no longer bent on revenge.

“Pat, you don’t have your board’s cuff on!” he admonished.

“Mmmm, don’ need it,” Patton mumbled, relaxing as he floated. “‘M such a good swimmer, you don’ even _know.”_

“Safety first,Pat,” Remy said, straight-faced.

“What are you, five?”his husband snorted back.

“Course not, I’m a ten, and you’re even more perfect, which is why I’m not letting your cute butt fall off your board,” he responded, swimming over to attach the velcro cuff around Patton’s wrist himself.

Patton rolled his eyes and kissed Remy on the forehead. “Mmmm, you’re salty!” he said, licking the saltwater off his lips.

“It’s not just a personality trait, it’s a lifestyle, babes,” Remy replied, grinning. He kissed Patton’s cheek, then his forehead, then his lips, all hot sun and seawater and lingering fruitiness.

It was going to be another amazing vacation.


	2. Birthday - Logince

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “How could you forget your son’s birthday?” with Logince

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “How could you forget your son’s birthday?” with Logince
> 
> (Request from: NotAlwaysTheVillain)

All Logan wanted after a long day of lectures and office hours was to come home and sit down with a nice cup of tea. Preferably with a heavy dose of honey to soothe his tired throat, and accompanied by silence to soothe his headache. Something about this exam season had really brought out the worst of his students’ anxieties, and his office hours had gone twice as long as planned as a parade of college kids trooped in and out with dire predictions about their futures.

Walking into the apartment he shared with his boyfriend, though, he stopped short, hand still on the doorknob. He stared, then checked the number again, then stared once more. It was definitely their apartment. But it currently resembled a mini Disneyworld, with castle cutouts on the walls and Mickey ears everywhere, covered in sparkles and confetti.

“Logan! You’re home!” 

His boyfriend came barreling down the hallway and practically knocked him over with the force of his hug.

“Hello Roman. What is all this?”

Roman drew back, gasping dramatically, hand splayed across his chest as the very picture of affront. “How could you forget your son’s birthday?”

“This is for _that?”_ he responded. “My dear, I know it won’t make a difference, but I feel compelled to remind you once more that Burbage is a _cat._ He is unaware of the passage of time and of Disney alike.”

“Lies and slander! Burbey loves Disney!”

With a tone of endless patience, Logan responded, “Just because his head sometimes turns towards the screen when a movie is on…”

“He likes Aristocats the best, because he is a noble creature of refined taste. He takes after me, obviously.”

Logan smiled fondly at his wonderful, if very ridiculous and somewhat tiring, boyfriend. “Can his birthday party involve me getting to sit down?”

Roman grinned down at his love, and tangled his fingers into Logan’s neatly-tied bun to undo it. “Of course, starshine.”


	3. Cold Feet - Roceit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You can't banish me! This is my bed too" with Roceit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "You can't banish me! This is my bed too" with Roceit 
> 
> (Request from: Helena/MariniaCipher)

Dante was _not_ a fan of the winter. Particularly winter in the city. Most of the year, he loved being able to walk places with his husband, like the park or the theatre district. 

But when it was frigid and icy and the sidewalk was plastered in slush, he wished desperately for a nice, toasty car to come pick him up from at the end of a long night of bartending.

He dove through the door to their building, dripping on the welcome mat as the heat that blasted through the lobby melted the ice and snow off him. 

He took the elevator up, still shivering slightly, and trudged down the hallway to the condo he shared with Roman. He opened the door slowly. The lights were off - good, his love hadn’t stayed up for him. He had rehearsals starting tomorrow, he needed his rest. Moving quietly, Dante hung his wet coat, gloves, and boots out to dry by the banked fireplace and went to the bedroom, shedding clothes as he went.

Roman barely budged as Dante opened the door and closed it behind him, only making some adorable soft sounds as he dozed. Dante softened. His husband was always so gorgeous, but something about how his face smoothed out when asleep just made Dante’s breath catch in his throat every time.

He slid under the covers, letting out a contented sigh as the heat settled in around him. He wiggled himself over to kiss the back of Roman’s neck. But he miscalculated and his icy foot brushed the back of Roman’s calf.

“AAH, FUCK!” Roman cried out, jolted away. “No! No cold feet! Cold feet are banned! You’re banished!”

“You can’t banish me! This is my bed too,” Dante complained, cuddling in closer just to be contrary.

“I’m too hot to be subjected to such cold,” Roman said grumpily. 

“Yes you are,” Dante agreed, kissing the spot where Roman’s shoulder met neck. It was his husband’s favorite spot, and he could feel him relaxing once more. He grinned. “I’m sorry I woke you, love.”

Roman shifted, turning to face him. “It’s okay, I’m glad you did. I didn’t get my goodnight kiss yet.”

“Well, if you insist,” Dante replied, and started to pepper feather-light kisses on Roman’s cheeks and forehead and down to his collarbone and back up again. Roman giggled and kissed him back in as many places as he could reach. 

Nights outside were frigid and unforgiving, but nights with Roman were anything but.


	4. Boys and Girls of Every Age

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Have I mentioned, I fucking hate Halloween.” with Virgil and whoever else you want

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Have I mentioned, I fucking hate Halloween.” with Virgil and whoever else you want
> 
> (Request from: Ronni/RonniRotten)

Bass beats pounded up from the floor below. Lights flashed in rhythm with the music. And the air was filled with shouts and laughter and more shouting, because no one seemed capable of hearing one another in the din.

The dark-clad man on the roof leaned back against the wall with a sigh. “Have I mentioned I fucking hate Halloween?”

His companion turned to look at him. “Bullshit, Virge. You start decorating with pumpkins the minute Pride Month ends. You spend all year talking about how it’s ‘only 11 months to Halloween!’ The only thing on your dorm walls are a matched pair of Jack and Sally posters!”

“Yeah, because Nightmare is the best movie of all time - shh, Ro, you know I’m right - and it’s what Halloween should be. But now it’s just a massive party that I go to for about two seconds and then immediately want to leave.”

“…as opposed to the parties you don’t want to leave?”

“My point exactly. When did it stop being about monsters rising for a night of spooks and scares? When did it stop being clever costumes and candy?”

“When we came to college, duh,” Roman replied. “Because everyone here has to be ‘grown up’ and uninhibited, apparently.”

Virgil raised an eyebrow. “Oh, yeah, like you never partake, ever.”

Roman turned up his nose. “That is because I am a delight and also the life of the party. Not all of us have embraced the Detached-From-Your-Materialist-Concerns aesthetic you’ve got going on, brother dear.”

“There is no ethical consumption under capitalism,” Virgil muttered under his breath.

“Nerd.”

“Asshole.”

“Edgelord.”

“Airhead.”

“Emo nightmare”

“Ha, joke’s on you, I like that one.”

Roman, with all the dignity of his 14-month age gap over his younger brother, turned and stuck his tongue out at him. Virgil just grinned and casually flipped him off.

A comfortable silence fell between them, watching the very last remains of the sun sink below the horizon from their spot on the dorm roof. The serenity was broken up by the continuous noise from below.

“D’you remember when we were kids and we’d just go all out for Halloween?” Roman asked.

“Yeah, you always wanted to be a prince. But you were already so extra that it had to be a different prince every year.”

“I knew what I wanted,” Roman said with a affronted sniff. “And you’re one to talk, you always wanted to be a villain!”

“I knew what I was good at,” Virgil shot back. “You always dragged me into your make-believe to be the bad guy.”

Roman sat up suddenly. “Virge! I have an idea!”

Virgil turned to look at his brother. “…I am not going on another quest, last time we ended up in West Virginia with my feet soaking wet while you yelled at a bird.”

Roman look hurt. “It was an adventure and Reginald refused to play his part!” He shook it off and continued. “No, I was just thinking - the only reason you don’t like Halloween now is because we aren’t doing the best parts: trick or treating.”

“I mean, yeah. Also the part where everyone’s partying and it’s not even the 31st yet, just the closest Friday.”

Roman grinned, his face lighting up. “Which means we’ve got time to get crafty.”

His brother’s words slowly trickled into Virgil’s brain, and he started to smile too.

“Get ready, Wisteria University!” Roman leapt to his feet, posing like the princes of his childhood. “The Brothers Sanders are about to Spook This Shit Up!”


	5. Tie - Loceit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m not wearing a tie.” Loceit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “I’m not wearing a tie.” Loceit
> 
> (Request from: Lulu/CentreOfTheseLights)

“Yes, Dad, that works for my schedule. I’ll check with him too. Yeah, Papa can pick the place. I’ll talk to Dee and let you know. I love you too. Talk soon.”

Logan hung up his phone with a slight sigh.

“What are you talking to me about?” his boyfriend asked from the doorway.

Logan jumped, surprised, then smiled a little sheepishly. “My dads invited me to dinner. And they really want to meet you finally.”

“Finally?” Dee asked with a raised brow. “We’ve only been dating five months.”

Logan cleared his throat. “Yes, but I may have possibly used Dad as a sounding board back when I was trying to decide if I should muster up my courage to talk to you, so he’s been hearing about you for… longer than five months.”

Dee smirked, coming over to rest his hands on Logan’s hips. “Pining from afar and rationalizing yourself in and out of decisions? That doesn’t sound like you at all, dear.”

Logan flushed slightly. “Shush, you. Anyway, they want to meet Thursday - if you can’t make it or don’t want to, that’s more than fine.”

He looked up at his boyfriend hesitantly. 

Dee kissed his forehead, then paused. “Do you want me to be there, love?”

“Only if you want to.”

Dee raised an eyebrow. “My darling nerd. What have we said about direct questions? What do _you_ want?”

Logan cleared his throat. “I’d like you to be there.”

Dee smiled. “Oh good, because I would like to come. On one condition.”

“Oh? And what would that be?”

Dee trailed a manicured nail down the silk tied expertly around Logan’s neck. “I am _not_ wearing a tie.”

Logan chuckled. “I accept your terms. Papa is probably going to be in a sweatshirt, anyway.”

“And your Dad?”

“…I just pray Papa convinces him to leave the cat hoodie at home.”


	6. Sweetie - Royality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Do you really need all that candy?” Royality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Do you really need all that candy?” Royality
> 
> (Request from: CC/my dear nibling)

Logan was sitting in his favorite armchair (by the window and under the lamp, optimum placement for having enough light to read by) re-reading Agatha Christie mysteries when he heard a clatter from upstairs. He paused a moment, but it didn’t continue, so he dove back into Poirot’s inspection.

The clatter sounded again. Had someone summoned marbles in the mindscape? What an odd sound. But if there was a mess or something he needed to deal with, he was sure they’d ask. He returned to his book once more.

Just as Poirot was about to reveal the culprit, the clatter sounded, and continued, and next thing Logan knew, Roman was tumbling down the stairs, bourne down by a wave of mess.

“Roman, are you quite alright?”

“I’m fine, dear nerd! Just in the middle of another spot of brilliance!”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “Brilliance? It looks like you’ve just fallen out of the dumpsters at Disneyworld. Or perhaps a five-year-old’s birthday party.”

“Oh, you poor sad soul. Unable to recognize fun when you see it,” Roman said, standing with a dignified huff. He summoned baskets and gathered the items around him into them.

Logan peered in with a frown. “Do you really need all that candy?It will give you a stomachache.”

“If you must know, it’s not for me,” Roman replied. “I shall be in the kitchen if you have need of my wonderful presence!”

Virgil slouched down the stairs just as Roman turned through the door. “Hey, L, what was that noise?”

“Roman.”

Virgil nodded sleepily and disappeared upstairs once more. 

Roman re-emerged in a cloud of sprinkles and flour an hour and half later. Logan would have happily continued reading, but the dramatic side was also singing at the top of his lungs.

“There is something sweeter everybody neeeds…”

“Roman, must you-”

“I’ve been dreaming of a true love’s kiss!” he sang, twirling into the living room with a basket under one arm. He sprinkled a trail of candy behind him as he went: Laffy Taffys, Hershey’s Kisses, SweetTarts, and conversation hearts. He spun up the stairs as he continued to sing.

Logan wanted to roll his eyes and ignore it all, but knew he was far too inquisitive to not spend the afternoon wondering. With a resigned sigh, he placed a bookmark in his mysteries and followed the trail of sweets.

Roman twirled down the hallway to Patton’s room and knocked. “Dear heart! Your presence is requested!”

A sleep-tousled head poked out, glasses still askew. “‘Morning Roro, where’m I going?”

Roman gestured dramatically to the line of candy behind him. “Follow the path of sweetness! It should be easy for you, as you’re the sweetest person I know!”Patton giggled. “But that’s gotta be you, sugar!” 

“No, you, honey!”

“Sweetie-pie!”

“Gingersnap!”

“Cupcake!”

“Please,” Logan interjected faintly. “Please go along with the scheme and stop naming desserts, I’m getting heartburn just listening.”

Roman sniffed. “Some people have no sweet tooth whatsoever.” He kissed Patton on the cheek and danced back along the corridor. “Once you’re ready, I’ll be waiting for you at the end!”

Patton disappeared into his room and re-emerged less than a minute later, looking only slightly less haphazard and twice as giggly. He wore his cat hoodie and used the pouch to collect the candies sprinkled across their home.

Virgil reemerged looking slightly more awake and followed Logan, who followed Patton, all with a sense of morbid fascination.

The trail led down the hallway, down the stairs, through the living room, and into the kitchen. Roman stood there with an enormous cookie cake decorated in mini M&M’s. He’d picked out only the reds and blue to spell out “Roman

Patton blushed and squealed in delight. “Roberry!! This is so sweet! What’s the occasion?”

Roman came around the table to catch Patton in a hug. “I noticed you were feeling a little down yesterday, my dearest. I wanted to cheer you up.”

“How could I ever feel down when someone as wonderful as you loves me?”

Roman caressed Patton’s face softly. “It’s okay if you do, Pattycake. You’re a wonderful, deep person who feels many complicated things, and I don’t expect my love alone to fix your very real feelings. I just want you to know that I’ll always be here, for the good and bad alike.”

Logan watched the two right-brain sides continue to hug, and turned to see Virgil hiding his face behind his hoodie sleeves

“What is it, Vee?”

“Nothing,” he mumbled.

“Sorry, what was that?” Logan asked, pulling down a hand. It revealed Virgil’s face devoid of its usual foundation gone bright red. He raised an eyebrow in a silent question.

“Shut up,” Virgil growled. “It’s… fuck, they’re just cute, okay? That was a really sweet thing of Ro to do unprompted.”

Logan softened. “I won’t tell anyone if you don’t.”

Virgile pulled his hood up, face still pink. “Good, I’ve got a reputation to maintain.”


	7. Validation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “They don’t deserve you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “They don’t deserve you.” Logan to Patton
> 
> (Requested by Anon)
> 
> TW: transphobia, harassment, dysphoria, f-slur

“What the fuck is _that_,” a jeer sounded through the hallway. Patton balls their fist in their skirt. They’d been feeling so confident this morning when they’d put it on - the blue complemented their lilac hair clips and they’d felt so pretty. But the whispered comments have been sounding in the background all morning and it was eroding their confidence, little by little. And now the whispers are louder, unable to ignore. They lift their head and tried to walk tall, but their hands are shaking.

It hadn’t been as bad before today. The slow introduction of pastels into their wardrobe, followed by blouses, those had gone relatively unnoticed. But today, they’ve worn a skirt. Buying it had been so exciting - feeling the smooth fabric, watching it twirl as they spun in front of the mirror, feeling a bubbly, giddy sensation as they looked at their reflection and saw Patton. And they’d been hopeful that the other students at school would react well, or even just accept it without comment.

Perhaps Logan was right, and they couldn’t always afford to see the best in people. Perhaps they should have prepared themself more for the likelihood of hurtful comments.

The jeers grow closer. “Look at Patsy over there. What is he even doing?”

The pronoun makes them wince, yet another pin stabbed into their ego and confidence.

“Where’d you steal that from, Claire’s?” another voice asks mockingly. “Are you trying to play dress-up or some shit?”

They keep walking, refusing to look back or even acknowledge the teasing. If they don’t react, maybe the bullies won’t think it’s worth. Maybe they won’t seem as much like a target. They realize that’s impossible as hands grab their shirt and spin them around.

“Stop ignoring me, you fucking cross-dresser! Who do you think you are?” David sneers, getting into Patton’s face. He’s big, at least half a foot taller than Patton and much broader, too.

“Please don’t touch me,” Patton responds softly, edging away.

“Like _anyone _would want to touch you, fag. What, is this the only way you could think of to get a boyfriend? Pretending to be a girl?”

“I asked you to step back,” Patton insists, but there’s no vigor to their voice. Their heart is hammering in their chest, all they want to do is run, but turning their back to David and the friends who stand with him will only make them more vulnerable. They can feel their eyes starting to brim with tears and look at the floor, not wanting their vulnerability to be any more obvious.

Suddenly, a new person moves into their field of vision, getting in between them and their tormentors.

Logan, who ‘s known for always keeping such a cool head, is standing in the way, face like a stormcloud. He looks like he’s about to smite David and company if they don’t go away _right this second._

Patton escapes into an nearby empty classroom leans against the wall, fighting to suppress their tears, trying to cry quietly.

Logan follows him. He’s a little unsure of how to be most comforting, but sits against the wall too, as close as possible, to let Patton decide how much comfort they’d like.

Patton sniffles. “Why do they have to be so cruel, Lo? Is it really so wrong to be the way I am, to dress this way? They’ve always been friendly before, when I was closeted. Am I a freak?”

Logan turns, and Pat can see the crackling anger of before rising again in his eyes. “No, Patton. There is nothing wrong with you. You are exactly who you are meant to be. Those bigots are just too small-minded and cruel to realize that the same Patton who’s been the star of every bake sale is the one who they’re tearing down now.” His expression softens as he wraps an arm around Patton’s shoulders. “You’re the same Patton who’s had band-aids for their scraped knees on the playground, who’s been a shoulder to cry on, who’s been there with a joke and a distraction when things are past crying. You’re the best person I know, Pat. No matter your gender or your presentation. In fact, ever since you’ve come out to me and your friends, you have been all that and more, because I have never seen you so happy. And if David and his friends can’t see that- then they don’t deserve you.”

Patton leans into Logan’s arm, and hugs back. Logan holds them gently, but starts to get worried as he feels them shaking in his arms.

“Pat? Have I upset you? I’m sorry…”

“No, no,” Patton says, sitting up and wiping tears from their eyes. “It’s just… thank you. For being my friend. For reminding me that I’m valid, no matter what they say. I needed to hear that.”

“It’s the truth. I’ll always be here to remind you, whenever you need it, okay?”

Patton gives Logan a watery smile. “Thank you so much, Logan. I love you.”

Logan flushes, hugging his datemate close. “I love you, too.”


	8. Midnight Thoughts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I had a bad dream again” with Remile

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “I had a bad dream again” with Remile?
> 
> Request from: NotAlwaysTheVillain

Remy was on a tropical island, humid and muggy. No, they were in a desert, scorching and searing. No, they were somehow in a monster’s mouth with a huge, hot tongue wrapping around them and…

They woke up with a start, only to see the source of the heat in their dreams. Their boyfriend Emile was completely wrapped around them and on top of them, pulling all the blankets over them both.

“Hey, hun,” they murmured softly. “You gucci?”

Emile looked up, making out Remy’s slightly-fuzzy face without his glasses. “Oh, Rem, did I wake you? I’m sorry.” He sheepishly rolled back to his side of the bed, taking the nest of sheets with him. “Did I make you overheat?”

“Yeah, a little. How are you so cold, all the time? It’s August! In a heat wave!”

Emile shrugged, “Well, the position of ‘hot one’ in this relationship is already taken, so…”

Remy leaned back, preening. “You know it, babes. But you’re the sweet one and everyone knows it.” They pulled Emile closer once more so that the doctor’s pink head rested on their chest. “I mean it, though, hun. You okay?”

Emile opened his mouth to respond, then deflated. “I had a bad dream again.”

“Still about…?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh love. C’mere,” Remy cooed, pulling Emile properly into their arms. They carded through their boyfriend’s hair, softly running their fingers up and down and planting kisses on his crown.

Emile softened into his partner’s hold, letting himself be soothed by the repetitive motions and the overwhelming feeling of  _ safe.  _ But the more he relaxed, the more the tears leaked out.

“You can’t blame yourself, sweets,” Remy whispered. “You can’t control everyone’s actions. What you can do is your best to support all your patients, and I know you do.”

Emile sighed and sniffed. “I know that, honeybunch. But it doesn’t make it easier.”

“I know it doesn’t, Em. But it’s something to hold against the midnight thoughts and say ‘fuck you, bitches, you ain’t got shit on me.’”

“Dear, does that sound like something I’d say, even to intrusive thoughts?”

Remy grinned, and kissed Emile’s cheek. “No, but I’ll say it for you. I’ll fight anyone who makes you feel bad, you know I will.”

“Even if it’s me making me feel bad?”

“Especially then. My power knows no bounds, hun.”

Emile giggled, and snuggled into Remy’s chest once more. “Thank you, Rem. I love you.”

“I love you too, sweetness.”


	9. Roommates - Remile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “If you can’t sleep…we could have sex?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “If you can’t sleep…we could have sex?” with Remile
> 
> (Requested by: Lulu/CentreOfTheseLights)
> 
> Did you know I’ve never actually written a bed-sharing scene? It’s clearly time and past. 
> 
> (So this actually went a bit over 1k words, whoops! I just love the boys)

Emile tapped their fingers happily on the wheel, singing at the top of their lungs to the music blasting from his car’s speakers.

“I know a place that's always exciting, the shows and the sights and the lights that are blinding: Empire City! I’m talking Empire City!”

“It’s the Empire  _ State, _ hun.”

“Shhh, let me and Greg sing,” Emile shot back with a smile. 

Remy rolled his eyes fondly. “You know you won’t get to sing along with Ro, right?”

Emile grinned without taking their eyes off the road. “Yes, I do. Until Broadway finally starts those sing-a-longs we all really want!”

Remy leaned back, settling his sunglasses once more. “Sureee, yup, that’ll definitely catch on.”

“Roman could be the one to start them!”

“...look, I obviously believe in him and know he’s gonna kill it, but he only  _ just _ got to the level of understudying with an original cast. It’ll be a couple years at least before he changes the literal face of Broadway.”

Emile bounced a little in their seat. “I know! But soon! I’m so excited, I haven’t seen him perform live since… oh gorsh, it must have been when he was still a freshman!”

“Was that when I last dragged you to a show?”

“No, that’s when you knew I would be incredibly disappointed if he was in  _ Spongebob The Musical _ and you  _ didn’t _ bring me,” Emile replied happily. 

“Hey, what’re former roommates for,” Remy drawled.

“Lending you a car when you want to get to your baby brother’s show with barely a full day’s notice?” Emile suggested impishly.

“Yeah, that’s a perk too. Thank you again, by the way.”

“Not a problem at all! I only wish we could make it up in a single day!” Emile said. They were somewhere in North Carolina, and the sun was about to disappear completely below the horizon. Emile had had clients until noon, so they hadn’t hit the road until one. 

“Eh, crashing overnight isn’t the worst thing on a road trip like this.”

“And we’ll even get to stop in the state’s capital city!”

“Really?”

“No, Raleigh!”

Remy fell dramatically against his window, groaning. “You set that up on purpose.”

“Mayybbbeee,” Emile responded, grinning hugely. “Also, I called ahead to a hotel that my cousin works at, they were able to get us a room despite the crowds this weekend. No motels for these two buds!”

“Oh bless you, babes, maybe we can even get some decent coffee in the morning,” Remy said reverently.

They’d driven in the dark an hour longer when they finally reached the hotel. Remy offered to carry both their bags (a small duffel for Emile and a lumpy backpack for Rem) as Emile went in to talk to the front desk.

When Remy caught up, Emile looked sheepish. They caught sight of Remy and waved half-heartedly.

“What’s up?”

“There was apparently a miscommunication with my cousin,” they replied. “She apparently didn’t get that we are  _ former _ roommates, not current, and got us a single room.”

“Hey, that’s fine, you don’t snore, or at least you didn’t.”

Emile shook their head. “It’s a single room. With a single bed.”

Remy lifted his glasses. “You’re shitting me.”

“No, it’s just the only-”

“Shhh, Em, don’t speak,” Remy interrupted. “I’ve been waiting for this day my entire life.” He came up close to Emile and rested his head on their shoulder, before stage-whispering,  _ “And there was only one bed!” _

Emile snorted and reached around awkwardly to pat Remy’s head. “I’m not sure what you’re quoting but I’m glad you’re having fun.”

“All those cartoons, and you don’t know  _ any _ memes?” Remy asked incredulously. “Anygay, yeah, it’s like a queen or king, right? We’ll be fine. It’ll be just like college.”

Emile smiled, taking their bag back from Remy’s hand. They accepted the key cards from the desk attendant and led the way to the room.

It took him three tries due to excitement, but Remy finally the got the door open, bursting through as he exclaimed, “And they were roommates!”

Emile passed him in a blur to dive onto the queen-sized bed, bouncing back with a cackle of glee. Remy dropped his bag and imitated his friend, completely his own reference with a whispered, “oh my god they were roommates.”

Emile leaned back into the pillows, eyes closed. “Rem, are these more mey-meys?”

“...babe, you’re killing me.”

“So that’s a yes? What do they mean?”

“This one’s a Vine, that’s the whole thing, it’s kinda implied something gossip-worthy happened between said roommates.”

Emile nodded sagely. “And what’s the dramatic ‘only one bed’ thing?”

“It’s this dumb trope where convoluted events lead to two characters having to share a bed, and by the end of the night, they’re cuddling or, ya know,” Remy finished, waggling his eyebrows.

His friend giggled. “Aww, Rem, you coulda just asked, you didn’t need to plan all this!”

Remy shoved them lightly. “Hun, you’re not allowed to tease  _ me.  _ I dish it out, I don’t take it.”

Emile messed up Remy’s styled hair. “After all the times you sexiled me, I’m allowed to make fun of you all I want. And I’m taking the first shower, too, before you use up all the hotel’s hot water.”

That night, wrapped in unfamiliar sheets and the thick shadow of night, Remy cursed silently. He hadn’t shared a bed all through the night in… well, nevermind the specifics, it had just been a while, okay? Had it always been this  _ distracting? _ He was aware of Emile’s every move, every little shift on the mattress as they clearly fell asleep without a moment’s thought. 

He moved carefully, shifting to his side, and immediately realized his mistake. Now he was facing Emile, and there was no way he’d be able to ignore how their breaths kept blowing that tiny piece of pink hair out of their face or how different their face looked without glasses. He sighed and slowly rolled over to lie on his other side, facing away. He tried to snuggle into his pillow, only to realize a streetlight was piercing the curtains at just the right angle to hit his eye.

He rolled fully onto his stomach and sank his face into the pillow with a defeated sigh.

“Are you still awake?” he heard from his right.

“Em? You’re ‘wake?” he mumbled back.

“‘M drifting in and out. Have you gotten to sleep at all?”

“No.”

**“If you can’t sleep…we could have sex?” **

Remy’s brain came to a screeching halt. “Huh?”

Emile wriggled closer, smiling. “Isn’t that what’s supposed to happen? From your memes? We’re here together, just old roommates, and there’s only the one bed...”

Their closeness and innocent-seeming smile as they talked about this was keeping Remy’s brain solidly out of commission. “Buh?”

“Oh my goodness, I made him speechless,” Emile stage-whispered. “It’s a once-in-a-lifetime event!”

That was enough for Remy to recover, somewhat. “Not your typical type of joke, Em, ‘m just surprised.”

“Who said I was joking?”

Remy looked up into Emile’s open face with wide eyes. Emile? The friend he’d made in the very first week of college? The one he’d roomed with for all four years? The one he’d crushed on so very terribly but suppressed it to maintain their friendship?

“You...? We could-? You meant it?” he stuttered out.

“I mean, I presume you still remember how it works, you had enough practice back in the day,” Emile smirked. Then their face softened. “But yes, I meant it. I’ve always meant it, Rem. Even though I knew I wasn’t fun enough for you back in undergrad.”

“But I thought I was too extra for you, too much partying and shit while you were still so sheltered?” Remy blurted out.

Emile reached out hesitantly and brushed soft fingers through Remy’s hair. “I won’t lie and say I wanted that lifestyle, but I was willing to try it out if it had been with you.”

“I… how did we both miss this, all these years?”

Emile shrugged. “We have a chance to fix it now, right?”

Remy nodded, smiling softly, and carefully looped his arm around their torso. “Despite the jokes- I don’t want to have sex with you tonight. I want to make this count.”

“Me too. How does cuddling sound?”

“Not to be a soft bitch, but that sounds  _ wonderful _ .”

“Yeah right, you’ve always been a soft bitch.”

Remy blushed. “Only around you.”

Emile pulled Remy more properly into their arms and laid his head on their chest. “I’m honored, then. Let’s get some rest, yeah? Still gotta get to NYC to watch Ro kill it tomorrow.”

“Sounds good, hun. And Emile?”

“Yeah?”

“We were  _ roommates.” _

Emile grinned hugely and responded, “oh my god, we were  _ roommates.” _


End file.
